Thursday, September 30, 2010

EReaders and E-Reading: An Informal Survey

Last month I ran an "EReader" contest. I asked participants to send me email telling me what sort of device they used to read ebooks, and roughly what proportion of their reading (for pleasure) was currently in electronic as opposed to paper form. Sending me an email entered them in the contest. I hoped that I'd get some useful information about the current status of EReaders and ebooks, at least among readers who are aware of me.

The results were interesting and somewhat surprising. I received 46 entries, quite a reasonable sample, I think. I'd like to share the results of this informal survey here.

First of all, here are the data concerning devices. The numbers do not add to 46 because quite a few people told me they used more than one device.

Desktop computer16
Laptop computer14
Sony EReader9
Other EReader5

Despite the media buzz about EReader devices, fifty percent of the respondents still use either a desktop or a laptop computer to read ebooks. A number of people did mention that they were hoping to buy an EReading device soon (Nook and Kindle were mentioned about equally often). Several respondents commented that they would love an EReader but didn't feel they could afford one.

What about the question about proportions? Here are the data:

< 10%7
> 80%8

These numbers surprised me a bit also. Although there's the expected bump in the middle category, the numbers are spread pretty evenly over the entire range. I had expected that readers of erotic romance, especially, would tend to cluster in the higher percentage ranges. However, this did not seem to be true. At least half a dozen respondents explicitly said that "they love the feel of a real book". The proportion of ebooks read did not necessarily correlate with the availability of an EReader, either. I had people who use a desktop computer say that 90% of the books they read are electronic and two respondents with EReaders (a Nook and a Kindle) who said they read 10% or less in ebook form.

I made some other interesting observations. Several people owned multiple EReaders. (One individual told me she owned a Sony, a Nook AND a Kindle! Lucky lady!) Quite a few people felt that their ereading habits were in transition, either because they had just bought a new device or were planning to do so.

Kindle users seemed to be particularly enthusiastic about their EReaders. One person called it the best present she'd ever received. On the other hand, the one iPad user also raved about her device.

More than one person owned an EReader but hadn't really used it for various reasons: hadn't yet loaded her books on, didn't know how, etc.

I can't pretend that this was anything like a systematic survey. Still, I suspect that my respondents were fairly typical of romance readers at least. The results suggest to me that the popularity of EReaders and ereading is growing, but not as fast as the hype would have you believe. The publishers of print books don't have as much to worry about as they might have feared. Furthermore, price is still a major factor that is holding people back in their decision to buy a specialized ereading device. It would be interesting to re-run this contest in a year and see how things have changed.

I've said that I was surprised by my results, but in retrospect, perhaps I should not be. As it turns out, my own ereading habits and opinions are consistent with the majority of my respondents. I do my ereading on my netbook, a general purpose portable computer, rather than on a dedicated device. I read 40-50% ebooks. And like the people who answered my questions, I'm tempted to buy a dedicated device, but I won't -- not until the price comes down to $75 or less.

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Outline, schmoutline!

By Marie Beau (Guest Blogger)

Outline, schmoutline!

I can’t do it. I just can’t. I cannot sit down, write an outline, plot where my story will go, and then sit down and write it. I just can’t do it. That’s the perfect recipe for writer’s block for me. All I know, and all I need to know is where to start, where they’re going (cause it’s never about me – the inmates in my head definitely run the asylum), and where it will all end. That’s as much detail as I need.

I think everyone has heard tales about how a story just grabs an author and won’t let go until they’re done writing it. I must admit, that’s how it happens sometimes. The story just rolls around in my head and keeps growing until I write it down.

But then there are times when the story just hovers, as if waiting for something to happen. That usually means I don’t know my characters well enough to know what they’ll do next. What do I mean by that? Well, it might come as a surprise to you, but when you read the blurb about one of my stories, you very possibly know more than I did when I started to write it. I’ve been known to laugh out loud or cry when my characters reveal something that I had no idea was coming.

Take, for example, this story that I have coming out on October 1st, Wolf! This is what I knew when I started writing:

Lyssa Merrick has no intention of ever being involved with a wolf, but when Wolfe Reardon seeks her wildlife services she realizes choosing a mate is not always a conscious decision.

You see, Lyssa is a lynx, but she grew up in a pack of wolves and well, after certain things happened to her she swore that she would never be a part of pack life again. Wolfe on the other hand is pretty darn sure of himself (typical alpha). The chase is definitely on from the first time they meet. Here’s a sneak peek.

She was temptation incarnate. Wolfe wanted to let his fingers linger in her short, white-blonde hair. Her pixie face and bright hazel eyes were enough to bring any hot-blooded man back for a second look…or more. The intelligence behind the eyes, the self-contained responses made him want to dig deeper, get to know her—on every level. It was all he could do not to lift her over the counter and take advantage of the smell of arousal emanating from her body. But her look was anything but inviting. His fingers clutched the hand he was holding a little tighter, well aware of her resistance. Her sigh was his undoing. He reached behind her neck, his fingers luxuriating in the soft fur at her nape. He needed to taste her lips and take just a lick of her neck, maybe a nibble, mark her as his.

Wolfe leaned forward, tugging gently for her to meet him partway, and suddenly he was holding…air.

Silver-white fur glimmered and he caught a glimpse of her twitching whiskers and pointed ears as she swiveled and raced to the back. Her transformation was beautiful. A lynx. A soft, furry, intoxicating cat.

A smile spread across his face as he shifted and took chase, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor while her padded paws were silent. His size was no advantage in these close quarters.

He slid toward the doorway, his paws backpedaling, trying to slow his momentum. He crashed into a chair in the corner before tangling in the curtain in the doorway. Picking himself up, he gathered speed and skittered into the back room just in time to see her short tail disappear through the pet door.

Pouncing forward once again, his nails scraped on the floor as he skidded to a stop. He tilted his head to study the kitty door. He would never fit. It was a larger size than normal, but definitely not big enough for a full-size wolf. He sniffed at the opening and poked his nose through, wary of getting swiped at by her claws.

Her scent was fading…gone.

Writing is a journey that I very much enjoy and although this is my first published piece there will be plenty more to come (including a sequel to this one). I hope you’ll join me in my travels and let me introduce you to some real characters I’ve met.

Marie Beau


Release date: 10/1/2010

Whispers Publishing

For more about Lyssa and Wolfe, visit me at:

Monday, September 27, 2010

My Erotic Romance Aha Moment

By Jannine Corti Petska (Guest Blogger)

--or-- Why a Story Didn’t Pan out (Blame it on my Catholic Upbringing)

Back in the 1970s, I never told anyone I loved reading historical romance novels. I couldn’t get enough of them: Woodiwiss, Lindsey, Deveraux, and others. I’d meander over to the bookstore’s romance section, praying I didn’t run into someone I knew. At the checkout, the cashier would give me that smirking look, the one that said “I know what you do behind closed doors, you naughty girl.” Once the books were in my possession, I’d hide them from the public’s eyes in all sorts of ways. I’d make a book cover out of a paper bag. Or hide the book inside a magazine. Those who didn’t read “bodice rippers” thought the romance junkies were reading pornographic material, even though love scenes didn’t really exist back then. The hero and heroine made love behind closed doors, or the sex scenes were flowery and filled with euphemisms.

Fast forward to the 21st Century and the explicit love scenes which would make your grandmother’s toes curl and her face burn hotter than a habanero pepper became the norm. Once erotic romance exploded onto the literary scene, there was no room for 1970 morals, unless you read inspirational romances. While I write sensual love scenes—and yes, sexually explicit…..through euphemisms—by no means are they graphic. And herein lies the problem with a book I started in the mid-90s.

NIGHT OF THE DRAGON is an 18th Century romance centered around the Chinese sexual arts and the hero teaching the heroine all about the joys of sex. Little did I know that writing this story entailed more than sensual love scenes. I wondered how in the hell could I pull it off without being too explicit. It wasn’t until erotic romance became popular that I realized my book was meant for this new genre—My Erotic Romance Aha Moment. It was a startling revelation that paralyzed my fingers on the keyboard.

Erotic romance shattered the boundaries of what romance books used to be, creating a fine line between beautifully written love scenes and the stark reality of the human body when having sex. Authors pushed the envelope into controversy. And I, not liking change, wasn’t ready to jump into this new arena of romance writing. Every time I sat at the computer, the words didn’t flow from my brain to my fingertips. All I kept thinking was what will my family think if I wrote words like "penis" or "clit".

While I’m definitely no prude, my Catholic upbringing had something to do with my problem. Certainly, raised Italian didn’t cause difficulties, except under certain circumstances. Italians tend to have a colorful vocabulary—very expressive. However, I was the youngest (by 14 years) of my parents’ three daughters. Basically, I was raised as an only child to older parents who retained their Old World customs. To the day my parents died, I never swore in front of them. Now you understand why, if I wrote graphic sexual language, I’d surely burn in Hell. Wouldn’t I? What if the priests and nuns discovered my secret life? Would I be able to look them in the eye and not behave guilty for what surely was a sin?

I admit, from the moment I began writing, my characters liked saying shit, damn and hell. My favorite words. But the F word as well as the C word? That’s another story. I can’t bring myself to write them out on paper or type them into a computer. They’re just words, right? The F word is quite prevalent in Italian, which many of you probably remember from the movie Grease. Vaffanculo, also known as 'affanculo and va'nculo. It had been my word of choice when I was younger and angry beyond reason. (My anti-depressants have all but struck that word from my vocabulary. Now, I don’t even like hearing it.) I have no intention of teaching you how to swear in Italian, so I’ll refrain from giving a lesson on the C word.

I’ve taken several erotic romance writing courses online. I’ve read numerous erotic romances. I even bought The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Writing Erotic Romance. (you can stop snickering now) Still, NIGHT OF THE DRAGON is not written. Apparently, writing manhood, staff, rod; nether region, sheath, pleasure cove has been ingrained into my brain the first 20-30 years of reading then writing romance. I just can’t seem to leave behind the euphemistic world of love. You’re probably rolling your eyes about now. That’s okay. There are so many ways to describe a man’s……….manhood, and a woman’s…………nether region.

I take out NIGHT OF THE DRAGON now and then and quietly work my euphemistic magic. When (not if) I finish the book and rewrite it for the erotic romance genre, I’ll shout if from the rooftops. Uh…more than likely, I’ll hide in my home office. And I’ll never tell my Italian relatives that I wrote an x-rated book. When I attend church, I’ll keep my eyes downcast. They’d probably give my guilt away.

If you don’t mind reading romances with non-graphic love scenes, then be on the look out for my upcoming books. (Release dates TBA)

CHARLOTTE AND THE GYPSY (re-release of book 2 of my medieval psychic sister trilogy) from The Dark Castle Lords

LOVE’S SWEET WAGER, historical western, from The Wild Rose Press

THE LILY AND THE FALCON Book 1, Italian Medieval Series (first printing in 2000 by Kensington.), from The Wild Rose Press

SURRENDER TO HONOR. Book 2, Italian Medieval Series, from The Wild Rose Press

Currently available:

REBEL HEART, western, from HP

KNIGHT’S DESIRE, medieval short story, from DCL

CARINA AND THE NOBLEMAN (book 1 of my medieval psychic sisters trilogy), from Eternal Press

*Thank you Lisabet for having me as your guest blogger today.

BIO: Multi-published romance author, Jannine Corti Petska, was born in New York but grew up in Southern California. Her parents' first language was Italian, and Jannine was raised in an Old World environment. She began writing romance novels when her three daughters were young and she was a stay-at-home mom. In-between writing and caring for her family, she tutored Italian, Spanish, German, and English as a Second Language at a local college. Although she loves placing her stories in medieval Italy, she has also written romantic tales of the cowboy in the American West as well as Romantic Suspense. Visit her website at:

Saturday, September 25, 2010

Good versus Evil

By Victoria Blisse (Guest Blogger)

It’s the battle we all know so well and it is something that authors and script writers alike use to make their works interesting and exciting. It is the ultimate conflict and everyone knows a story needs some problem to fix to make it fun to read.

Now, Victoria Blisse stories aren’t usually big on the whole bad guy/good guy thing. Conflict is often internal in my stories or between lovers or it can even be with societal standards but I don’t often have a villain of the piece. So when I wrote Moon Shy I thoroughly enjoyed creating someone who was pure evil.

When the idea for Moon Shy came to me I only had one character in mind. A quiet, reclusive werewolf who hates what he is. That is how Lowell was born. I also knew, as I was writing romance that there would be a love interest and early on in proceedings I decided on a human girl who had known Lowell before he became a werewolf and so Jenny was created.

And you’d think that the whole werewolf falling in love with a human thing would create enough conflict but no, I felt something was missing. I needed something more. I needed an outside force that would pull my two lovers apart. So then came Desdemona. She didn’t have a name for a long while. In fact I asked my friends to help me come up with something suitable for a cold hearted killer. Desdemona was the name I loved the most.

She is evil and she is a werewolf. She loves that, revels in that and when she is in human form she thinks like a werewolf and longs to be a werewolf again. She is the complete and utter opposite of Lowell and so the story gained balance, good Lowell, evil Desdemona. The great thing is though that for more than half of the book Lowell hasn’t got one clue that Desdemona is a werewolf and the way he finds out is pretty dramatic.

Writing a villain is fantastic fun that you can really sink your teeth into, pun intended. It really got my creative juices flowing. Good guys are always lovely to write but there is just something extra exciting about creating a character that is so wicked you want to slap them.

Now here’s a little snippet of Desdemona evil for you to enjoy:

Coming in to work the day after a rampage was never fun, but Dessie was determined to make the most of it. The night before, she had been tearing flesh apart with her teeth and claws, and she would do the same today—but metaphorically, as bosses frowned on all that blood and mess.

She had checked all of the information for Demonet and found their most loyal and hardworking employee, and that was why she had sat at Lowell Kenyon’s desk first thing Friday morning. It was easy to run out the weak and the useless, but the fun was to be had in making a secure worker insecure. It amazed her how many top-of-the-class employees would fall apart under just a little Desdemona pressure. It was one of her favourite things about the job.

Lowell’s office in the bowels of the building was somehow comforting. Dessie’s sensitive nose picked up on a scent that indicated the presence of a wolf, but it could have been decades ago, the scent was so weak. It excited her all the same, her brain still mostly werewolf. It always took some time to truly get back to normal after a change, especially if she’d killed many the night before. And last night she had been very successful, indeed.

It wasn’t until he’d cannoned into his office ten minutes late that she realised why the room smelt as it did. He was a werewolf. Every pore exuded the scent, and as he came in the room, it was flooded with instant werewolf Viagra.

Dessie really enjoyed playing with him. She saw his hackles rise, but he seemed weak. She couldn’t sense a kill on him at all. Maybe he was a new wolf that she’d be able to break in.

She left him reluctantly, but she had a job to do. Seducing a brand new werewolf would have to take its place. The one thing missing from her perfect life was a partner in crime. It was all right bonking victims before she ripped them to shreds, but what she really wanted was a werewolf to have real, violent, doggie style sex with. Someone who could share the exhilaration of the kill with her. Lowell would be perfect. He needed training, obviously, and she was the woman to do it. “

You can read the whole story from Monday the 27th of September. Just pick up a copy of Moon Shy from Total-E-Bound.

Now out of curiosity who is your favourite villain? The one character you really love to hate? My mind flicked instantly to childhood and one of my favourite books as a kid was The BFG. So my favourite evil enemy would have to be the giants. I always loved the bit where Sophie hid in the snozzcumber! Let me know your favourites, I bet you’ll come up with some juicy ones.

Thanks for having me, Lisabet.

BIO: Victoria Blisse is a mother, wife, Christian, Manchester United fan and erotica writer. She is equally at home behind a laptop or a cooker and she loves to create stories, poems, cakes and biscuits that make people happy. She was born near Manchester, England and her northern English quirkiness shows through in all of her stories. Passion, love and laughter fill her works, just as they fill her busy life.

Friday, September 24, 2010

New Cover!

Whee! I just got the cover for my holiday ménage novella Almost Home and I have to share:

The cover captures the mood of the story - it takes place during a New England blizzard! - although unfortunately it doesn't convey the idea that this is a M/M/F story.

Oh well. I like it anyway!

Almost Home is coming from Total-E-Bound in December.

Oh, and speaking of TEB, I just noticed that my story Crossed Hearts, from the Gaymes anthology, has been released as a single title. You can read an excerpt here if you're curious.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Hath No Fury Like a Woman Who’s Behind

By Rebecca Rose (Guest Blogger)

Hello to everyone in Lisabet’s world! I’m happy to be here and excited because my follow up to Divine Turmoil, Divine Redemption, came out this week. It’s a contemporary romance that proves, Sometimes Redemption is the only Salvation.

This novella took me two and half weeks to write, and I knew, right from the beginning, that it was going to be great. The story of Donald and Jacqueline took on a life of its own and flowed without the choppy waters an author sometimes gets into.

Torrid waters are what I have found myself in lately, though. To finish a project has become increasingly difficult for me, basically due to ‘life’. Now, I’m not complaining, please don’t think that, it’s just that sometimes we writers get overwhelmed by the world outside of our imagination and forget how to gain access to our imagination again.

For instance. It’s 9:30 in the morning, my three children are upstairs taking showers, playing games, and making messes. This I don’t mind except I’m due at a baby shower in hour and a half and I’m still in PJ’s and furry slippers. (Damn, it’s getting cold at night!)

Any-whoo, the name of the game is ‘Reboot’. Have any of you played this before? Once or twice a year, I play this game. It’s when your desk and files look as if a tornado has run through, when your scraps of papers with notes on them (and I have a lot of them) are in some pile and you don’t know which one. Or… when you realize that time got away from you and deadlines are passing. To those people I apologize.

But, Rebecca Rose is making a comeback this week. She has three novels being written and now there are personal deadlines to be made. I’m fairly sure those work. Do any of you, use them? With my first couple of books, I wrote until I finished. Now I’m not sure what to do.

(Sorry, had to walk away for a minute. My daughter, the pre-teen, was having a "new cat" crisis. LOL.) Where was I? Oh, yeah…The one writing tool that I have always found works is a timer. (Mine broke due to the tiny hands on my youngest.) I set the timer for one hour of advertising, and then one more of blogging, whether for my own blog or someone else’s. It works really well and keeps me on track.

Hhmmm…maybe that’s my problem, eh? I need a new timer. LOL

Either way, I know understand how so many writers go crazy. There is no down time from your character, plots, and ‘life’. (There is loud banging coming from upstairs. Should I investigate? Nope, I don’t think I want to know.)

Life is fun. It’s a story in which we write our own endings. It’s where we must look for the funny in everything, and overlook the sad, when possible. Inspiration is everywhere. And I believe with this new-found corner turned, I can once again move ahead. But I still must ask (another loud bang, and louder children’s voices.) do self-imposed deadlines work? What do you do to stay on task, daily, weekly, monthly?

Have a Sparkling Day!

~ Rebecca Rose

Her blog:




Sunday, September 19, 2010

Word Count

I was feeling pretty good yesterday, after devoting much of the day to writing. I'd added more than 3000 words to my novel in progress. That's not a great deal by some authors' standards, but my writing time is limited and so a solid chapter's worth on a Sunday really cheers me.

Actually, though, the real reason for my glee wasn't the amount I'd written, but the quality. Recently, I'd felt that the characters in this book had lost their spark. They'd turned into cardboard cut-outs, without any intrinsic motivation. I was just moving them around like chess pieces, trying to push my concept of the plot forward. Yesterday, they seemed to resurrect themselves. (I had solicited suggestions from fellow authors for techniques to give the characters CPR, and I guess some of those notions worked!) All at once, Rafe twisted a crucial conversation out of my hands and sent it in an entirely new direction.

I was surprised and delighted. The conversation ended up exposing a conflict that I knew I wanted to use, but hadn't known how to introduce. It also subtly altered the emotional and power balance between the two main characters in a way that I intuitively sensed was right.

Anyway, I titled this post "Word Count" because I wanted to talk about how those document statistics are really a double-edged sword. If you're an author, you probably check the current word count every time you open a WIP, and then check again at the end of your writing stint. It's likely that, like me, you set word count goals. "Today I'm going to produce at least 2K." "I need to get 10K down by the end of the week."

In one sense, these goals can be helpful. They give you a way of measuring where you are and how far you need to go before you're "done", since many publishers specify the sort of work they're looking for at least partially in terms of word count. Word count goals also help me get my "butt in chair, hands on keyboard", even when I don't feel like writing. Surveying the numbers after a tough session of fighting with characters or plot is bound to improve my mood.

In another sense, though, I find that thinking in terms of word count can be dangerous. Because ultimately, the question of how many words I write is not important. What matters is the quality. In fact, I have a tendency to be overly verbose, and in many cases, fewer words would be better. A focus on word count may tempt me to spew out 3000 words of boring crap, rather than spending my time and effort crafting 1000 words that really touch the heart and mind.

An emphasis on quantity -- on a daily quota -- is particularly dangerous for me personally because I find my writing has a great deal of inertia. Once I've gotten something down on the page, it's agonizingly difficult for me to make major changes. I edit as I write, partly because I know that wrenching the story in a different direction afterward will be well-nigh impossible. So most of those 3000 words of less-than-excellent work are likely to end up in the final product -- for better or worse.

I try not to obsess about this sort of thing. I try to just open myself and let the words and ideas flow out. Sometimes, though, I have severe constipation of the imagination. Then I'll sit at the keyboard, partially out of stubbornness, and force myself to meet my objectives, regardless. Is this a bad thing? Maybe so. Maybe it would be better for me to go read the newspaper, or play with the cat!

I'd be interested to know the opinions of other authors on this question.

Friday, September 17, 2010

Australia - Ten Hot Places for Romance

By Barbra Novac (Guest Blogger)

A pristine beach as wide as your heart and as long as your potential stretched out in front of you; balmy exfoliating sand sliding between your toes, the warmth of the orange sunset off set by the sweet-salt scented ocean air tumbling through your hair.

Or, how about a large weatherboard homestead, raised on stilts and surrounded by a veranda so deep it easily occupies lounge chairs, side tables and protects book shelves from teal coloured storms and endless burnt orange sand. Sipping from a dripping glass of ‘Shandï’ (a mix of lemonade and beer popular with some ladies in Australia) you watch the men come back from a day of droving; shirtless, their hot, steaming muscle gleaming in the days dusk, energy only available for their showers, and the evening’s entertainment with the ladies.

These are some of the more common images of Australia and I am thrilled to tell you that they are all true, and I do live in a mini paradise of warm air, cool breezes and hot men. But there is a little more to Australia, and the following are a few destinations you may or may not have heard of that provide all the necessary pieces of the most sensual romantic puzzle you may have ever encountered:

10) Lord Howe Island

Exclusivity is the word on this world heritage listed island safely tucked away just 2 hours by plane from Sydney. There are some of the best nature walks in the world on this best kept secret, or day spas for those who just want to let it all go. Definitely a great place to TAKE a lover - probably not a great place to find one.

9) King Cross / St Kilda

We all have our strip joint strip. They exist in every city, and are rarely vary in the standard fare of expensive strip shows, greasy take away joints and street hustlers trying to sell pretty much anything you want to get your hands on, at an unreasonable price. Kings Cross in Sydney and St Kilda in Melbourne are really no different, however like all these places if you can hook up with an ‘in’ crowd you can get to some of the most incredible parties - that is if you’re feeling brave and don’t mind a little leather or rubber.

8) Chingalings / Tetsuyas

This may seem like an odd choice to Australians - even Sydney-siders. The restaurant Tetsuyas is one of the top ten restaurants in the world - Australia’s only restaurant in the top ten list in the world. However, if you want to ‘pick up’, or simply be a part of the utra-cool crowd, Chingalings bar in Sydney will really connect you as soon as you walk into the country. This is one of those still relatively undiscovered places where the walls are lined with celebrities (the cool kind - music and art - NOT film and TV) and it looks like the bar staff have to pass a certain looks and image test prior to being given a job there. If you have any desire to see how the other half lives, or play their game for a night or two - these are two of the sexiest places you’ll find in Australia.

7) The Blue Mountains

The second largest canyon in the world was the setting for my second book Honest Masks because it is such a beautiful, romantic place to visit. I am fortunate enough to live close to the Blue Mountains and the cluster of small villages that make up its area, and I go here often to write. It harbours sophisticated hippy-style communities like Katoomba alongside artisan style communities like Leura. Cabins dot the country side, perfect for log fire and red wine getaways. Easily one of the most romantic places in the world.

6) Katherine

Located in the Northern Territory, Katherine (about 300 kms south of Darwin) and the surrounding regions offer a loving couple (or a sexy single looking for a delicious fling) the opportunity to meet and mix with different people all experiencing the consuming spirituality of the Australian bush. Visits with several remote Aboriginal communities are available and moment of intense relaxation in thermal pools are a must for people wanting search a little deeper within themselves.

5) Tasmanian Eco holidays

Tasmania is one of the world’s most beautiful pure natural environments, offering so much for the eco friendly couple or the single interested in this sort of fun environment to meet people. There are country cabin style lodges for couples who want to spend a lot of time together as well as opportunities for the more adventurous to get out and about in the wilderness. Scenery that will leave its mark on you.

4) Nimban (Byron Bay)

Free love anyone? I’m not sure about you, but I have a deep romantic ideal associated with the hippy lifestyle - there’s something about bandannas, rainbow prints and Bob Marley that makes me want to ‘lie back and take it all in’ so to speak. Byron Bay is a little more subdued (and famous) but the township of Nimban has never lost their spirit of the 60’s. Doors are open, people spill into the township to play music and ‘chill’ and one of the best, sexiest holidays I ever had was with my man, breaking down the barriers in Nimban.

3) Adelaide wine region

Australia has many wonderful wine regions, but our vineyards rival the south of France. A little over a decade ago, our government got the idea that Australia had a bad reputation wine-wise throughout the world. They created a lucrative tax initiative for retirees to open up their own boutique vineyard. The result: every late life lawyer and doctor with several hundred thousand dollars to spare moved into the boutique wine industry. Vines and winemakers were imported from all over the world, and Australia grew an astonishing Boutique wine industry. The good news for the wine aficionado is that we can’t drink the stuff fast enough, and you can now get it at incredible prices.

2) Cable beach/Broome

If there is one thing Australia can offer in endless erotic abundance, it is some of the best beaches in the world. From Bondi in Sydney all the way through to Cable beach in Broome Western Australia the wide brown land has endless sun, endless powdery sand, and few restrictions on the more remote beaches - meaning you can fulfil all sorts of beach side fantasies and you won’t be seen or much worse caught! I used Bondi beach as the primary setting for Take It As It Comes - just in case you need any fun inspiration!

1) Hanging Rock

Another surprise! Hanging Rock is the setting for the novel I am currently working on, so for me it is the most erotic place on earth at the moment. If you’ve never seen the film Picnic at Hanging Rock, take a look. Australia has been embroiled in the mystery of what happened to three school girls and their teacher who disappeared without a trace on Hanging Rock, but the story has been kept alive by the mystery and presence of the rock itself. Its strange mists, its odd weather-beaten rock formations, and the mysterious magnetic pull of the place have made it an endless source of mystery and delight. As for what happened to the girls - well you’ll just have to read my next novel to find out!

Barbra Novac

Barbra Novac writes erotic romance and loves delving deep into the complicated psyches of characters through her novels the most. She loves Australia, but also loves the thrill and excitement of travel. When she is not writing she is looking after her son, her husband and the other pieces of life that insist we pay attention to them. Barbra has three novels published. Each is set in one of the exotic locations above, and can be found here:

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Two-Minute Drill (or "Silly Self-Deprecation")

By Steve Lowe (Guest Blogger)

Greetings & salutations to all you imaginary Internet people who only exist in my mind, and also to those of you who do actually exist outside of my mind. My name is Steve Lowe and this guest post promises to be quite different from what you are used to reading here on Lisabet’s blog. Perhaps I should apologize ahead of time for myself.

I’m sorry.

OK, with that out of the way, let’s get to it. I am an author (check out for info on my upcoming books) and occasional sports journalist, but I also enjoy doing a ridiculous interview series on my own blog. It’s called the 2-Minute Drill ( ) and the purpose is to have no real purpose at all, other than to revel in my own stupidity and randomness, as well as give fellow authors and artists a reason to show their own stupid randomness. As an introduction to you wonderful, shiny new readers, I would like to do a 2-Minute Drill exclusively for this blog. And as a special treat, the subject for this embarrassing public scrutiny shall be … myself.

Yes, that’s right. In an arrogant show of self-absorption, self-promotion and self-flagellation, I will dig deep into myself and dredge up answers to the penetrating, probing queries that you’re all dying to know about. (Wow, maybe I should try my hand at some GLBT fiction after that innuendo-laden sentence.)

Ready, set, DRILL!

2-Minute Drill: OK, this is weird as hell, even for you. We actually didn’t agree to this, you did so of your own accord. We would appreciate a little heads up next time.

Steve Lowe: Just shut up and ask the questions.

2-MD: Alright then smart ass… Why the hell would you name an author interview series the “2-Minute Drill”? This isn’t the NFL Network here. What does that have to do with writing?

SL: Absolutely nothing. It was the first name I thought of and I didn’t bother changing it because I’m lazy. And that was a terrible question. Do better.

2-MD: Why all the over-the-top stupidity and immaturity? Don’t you know all that insincere self-deprecation just gets old after awhile?

SL: No it doesn’t, so shut stupid head. Besides, I’m uncomfortable talking about myself in any way other than self-deprecating. Butt face.

2-MD: OK, fine, how about a classic 2-Minute Drill-type question then: When the armies of talking Fish People march into Washington D.C. and officially establish a Fishocracy in the U.S., will you join our fight for freedom from aquatic oppression or will you be a gill-sympathizer?

SL: It will depend on which side has a better healthcare package, though I’m guessing they’ll be quite similar.

2-MD: What is your favorite word that probably won’t ever show up in one of your stories?

SL: I’ll go with ‘Bonerrific’ for now, but if I ever do try my hand at erotic fiction, I guarantee that will be the first word I use. In fact, that might even be my first title.

2-MD: And finally, a two part-question: At the exact moment of the end of the world, what will you be doing? And second part: Top or bottom?

SL: First part: Dutifully serving our benevolent fish overlords, and Second part: Yes, please.

OK, I think that’s just about enough of this. If anything you just read here appealed to you in the slightest, then I would encourage you to check out my novella MUSCLE MEMORY (, set for release in November. And with that, I think it’s time I returned this blog to its rightful owner. Thanks to Lisabet for accommodating me, and sorry to everyone for that fishy smell. It will probably clear up in a month or so.

Steve Lowe writes dark stuff, except when he doesn’t. His first book, Muscle Memory, will be released in November 2010 as part of the New Bizarro Author Series from Eraserhead Press. His second book, Wolves Dressed as Men, will be released in November 2010 by Eternal Press. His short fiction is forthcoming or has appeared in Drabblecast, The Bloody Bridge Review, Esteban’s House of Bizarro, and Aurora Wolf, among other places. In his spare time, he asks fellow authors and creative types odd, mostly random questions for something called The 2-Minute Drill.

Saturday, September 11, 2010

Freak Parade

By Marilyn Jaye Lewis (Guest Blogger)

The seeds for my newest novel, Freak Parade, were planted way back in the fall of 2000 when I was still living in New York City. I wanted somehow to capture the stories of my life there and my friends’ lives and the whole feel of the city itself back then – and, most importantly, I wanted to capture the essence of the great love of my life, Mikey Rivera, when he was a man who was truly in his prime.

When Mikey and I met for the first time, at the Park Side Lounge on E. Houston Street in New York’s East Village, it was a week before Christmas; he was 37 years old and I had just turned 40. They were magical days. But all too soon 9/11 changed everything about life in New York.

Freak Parade is a novel – a work of fiction. But it is heavily based on real lives and real occurrences between 2000 and 2003, when Mikey and I left New York for good.

I don’t personally consider Freak Parade an erotic novel, but since there are several explicit passages and since I am known as an author of erotica primarily, it has fallen under the label “erotic novel.” I learned long ago not to fight labels! Hopefully, you will read Freak Parade and decide for yourself.

An excerpt:

Eddie dropped an arm around my waist and his hand pressed firmly, intimately, at the small of my back. He pushed my body close to his and, holding my hand tight, he raised my arm up and out, in perfect form. My breasts were pressed against his chest. The heat of his body felt inviting next to mine – even in that suffocating room – and every well developed muscle in his chest, in his arms, felt indisputably masculine. He was wearing intoxicating cologne, too; a scent I’d never smelled before. It was musky, sensual, captivating. It went right to my head just as the song Pablo was singing became almost viscerally familiar to my ears. It was an old song, “Perfidia,” only in Spanish now, with its sexy, haunting, hypnotizing mambo rhythm drawn out slow.

Within a heartbeat, I was actually dancing, protected from any false steps by Eddie Ramirez’s capable lead and the close security of his arms. We were completely engulfed in a compact sea of other slowly mamboing couples, with no place to move, really, except closer to each other. I felt breathless, I was actually dancing and yet the suggestive mambo rhythm, its back beat hooking into our hips and bringing our pelvises ever closer together, melting our bodies into each other like butter, made it feel less like dancing and more like some kind of ethereal sexual intercourse. My head was swimming.

All around us, the couples seemed to be responding to each other in the same way, like we were all part of the music, integral to the rhythm of the song and to the aching, swelling sound of Pablo’s enchanting vocal. I wondered dreamily if this was the true Latino heat one always heard about. The intensity of the sensual wave suffusing the room was inescapable. I looked up into Eddie’s face only to discover him looking down into mine. His lips didn’t smile but his eyes did; they shown like liquid coals, black and mysterious and so obviously capable of igniting with fire.

He spoke to me softly. “Are you married, mami?”

“No,” I said, surprised that my voice had found a way out of me, my throat was so constricted with awe by the closeness of his beauty.

A satisfied look settled over his face then. The firm hand at the small of my back pushed my body even closer to his.

He didn’t speak again. Those eyes just kept staring into mine. Even while I felt him growing increasingly hard, until his erection was planted right up against my mound, he didn’t speak. He simply graced my eyes with the extraordinarily beautiful sight of him.

The brass section, the lonely call of those aching horns, swelled into the exquisite pleas of Pablo’s song and the heartbreaking urgency of its crescendo made love to my ears. I so wanted to kiss this man who was holding me, burning into me, but I was steeped in a trance, in over my head. I couldn’t make that kind of bold move. Thankfully, Eddie read my mind. He leaned down and kissed my mouth sensuously, his body never missing a beat of the music.

When “Perfidia” ended, before the crowd could even applaud, Pablo soared into “Bésame Mucho” and it felt like the dance floor collectively sighed and eased ever closer to some sort of mutual orgasm of dance. It was thrilling, this chance to keep dancing with Eddie, to stay locked in his embrace since I’d already seen that he preferred a new partner with the advent of each new song. I silently thanked Pablo for this gift. I felt this was mostly Pablo’s doing, that he’d mesmerized us all with the captivating sound of his exquisite singing.

After the final notes of “Bésame Mucho” the band took a break and left the stage. It was an ingenious idea, leaving us all in that romantic grip. A lusty euphoria pervaded the room. Eddie didn’t let go of me. I felt fused to him from the hips down, his erection seeming to be part of me now. “I don’t usually hold women so closely. Forgive me,” he said.

“It’s all right,” I said.

“It seemed all right, you know?” His smoldering eyes stayed locked on mine. I felt like I’d fallen head first into them; like into a dream. I didn’t want him to let me go.

“Should I get you something to drink?” he asked.

I said, “No.”

“I suppose we should go sit down?”

I agreed reluctantly. “I suppose so.”

Holding my hand, he led me back to the table reserved for the musicians. There were six people sitting there now, in addition to Frankie.

Eddie sat in the chair next to mine. Frankie said, “Wasn’t Pablo amazing? That was just so beautiful, wasn’t it?”

I didn’t answer. I vaguely nodded my head. Eddie was still holding my hand. He said to me, “Where do you live?”

I said, “On Second Avenue and 10th Street. Where do you live?”

“Not too far from here. A little closer to the river. What was your name again?”


“Genie,” he repeated. “Like the magic girl in the bottle?”

“Not usually, but right now, yeah, like the magic girl in the bottle.”

“And you’re not married?”

“No. Are you?”

“I was once, but not anymore. I have a kid though, but he lives with his mother.”

Frankie excused herself and left the table in search of Pablo, her tiny beaded handbag in tow. The others at the table, who all seemed to know Eddie very well, were involved in their own animated conversations. Perhaps it was obvious to everyone that we were in a world of our own. Eddie said to me, “I’m glad I came out tonight. I wasn’t going to. I was feeling so fed up with everything – tired, you know? But now I’m glad I changed my mind.”

I almost didn’t believe my ears. I didn’t reply, fearing that perhaps it wasn’t really me that he was glad he’d come out for, but rather the overall experience.

He said, “What do you do?”

I said, “I work in a store. Clothes, that kind of thing. In Chelsea.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have guessed that. You remind me more of like, Jackie Kennedy Onassis, you know? I’m a plumber – commercial stuff, mostly.”

“Really? A plumber?”

“That’s right.” He put his hand gently behind my neck and drew my face close to his. He said softly, “If you ever need your pipes snaked, mami, just call. I promise not to disappoint you. I’m pretty good with my tools.” Then he kissed me on the forehead.

His tender lips felt sublime on my skin. Was this really happening; was this magnificent creature of masculine delight actually flirting with me? I was too overcome with my own desire for him to flirt back. I’d turned to the proverbial putty. All I could do was stare longingly at him, smiling a sort of doubting, stupid smile.

He said, “So, Genie, what brought you to the Sidecar Lounge tonight? I’ve never seen you here on Salsa night before.”

“I came with Frankie. She wanted me to hear Pablo.”

“I’m so happy for that. Listen,” he said. But then he didn’t finish.

“What?” I said.

“It’s just that you’re so pretty, you know? I’m having trouble thinking straight.”

Spellbound, I said nothing. But my desire to be kissed again must have been all over my face, because he leaned close again and kissed me right on the mouth, his mouth opening, mine opening, our tongues meeting. At the moment our lips touched, passion sparked through my bones so fiercely that I felt like Larry from the Coney Island Freak Show, shooting off to the moon in that crazy electric chair.

Damn. Taddeo Fischetti, all 350 pounds of him, popped up in the back of my brain. I’d promised to meet him outside the lounge at two o’clock. I couldn’t blow him off. That wouldn’t be right. Not only was it rude, it seemed foolhardy to simply blow off a date with a mob guy, especially when he was going out of his way to come get me.

“What time is it?” I hated to ask Eddie that, I hated to break the spell but I needed to know.

He looked at his watch. “One thirty. Why? You have to be somewhere at this hour?”

“Well,” I fudged, “my ride is coming for me at two.”

“You’re not married, are you, mami? Be straight. Don’t play me.”

“No, no. I’m not married. It’s just that someone offered to pick me up at two, so I have to leave at two.”

Eddie looked doubtful, but he acquiesced. “I have to see you again, mami – a cup of coffee, a slice of pizza, anything. When can I see you? Let me give you my pager number, okay? You’ll page me?”

“Of course,” I said eagerly. “Sure I will.”

He made a distracted attempt to find a piece of paper or even a pen and then seemed to be overcome by his need to kiss me again. He kissed me with such passion I fell into a heightened erotic swoon right there in my chair. Until his hands were on my thighs, I didn’t even realize my legs had parted rather immodestly. “Don’t, mami,” he said, pushing my legs together. “Don’t sit like that, not here; it’s going to make me too crazy.”

His touch was gentle, still it seared through me and made me want to kiss some more. I was beginning to think it was a good thing I had to meet up with Taddeo; otherwise I would wind up in bed with Eddie Ramirez before the night was through. I knew it. And I didn’t want this feeling to crackle and burn, to fizzle out all in one sordid tumble. I wanted to see Eddie again, even for a cup of coffee. I imagined it would be the most erotic cup of coffee a girl could come by in this short, inexplicable life.

Mira,” he said. “You wait here, mami. I’ll be right back.”


For 20 years, Marilyn Jaye Lewis has been one of Western erotica's premiere voices. She is an award-winning author, editor, and multi-media producer. Her newest novel is Freak Parade. Visit her at

Get your own copy of Freak Parade:

Ebook (all formats)

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Limited Collector's Edition (hardcover)

Friday, September 10, 2010

Minimalist Kink

“Could you get off on just a spanking?”

This is first line of my story "Just a Spanking" in D.L. King's new anthology Spank!, coming September 15th from Logical Lust Publications. It's a question posed by a Dom to his long-time, long-distance sub. It's a question I asked myself.

Lots of people enjoy sexual spanking - 19% of respondents worldwide and 41% in the US indulge, according to the 2004 Durex sexual survey. However, how much of the charge comes from the spanking itself? Would spanking still be a turn-on if not accompanied by caresses, teasing, or intercourse?

Hence, my story, which became a sort of literary Gedankenexperiment investigating the issue. The tale is an exercise in minimalist kink. The Dom sets up a scenario in which spanking is the only activity. Aside from laying his hand liberally across the sub's backside, he doesn't touch her at all. The only sensations she is allowed to experience are the pain of his smacks, the heat of her burning bum. No warm-up, no fingers dabbling in her pussy, no threats or endearments, just the stinging blows landing inexorably on her punished flesh.

And does she come? Or does her Master give in and give her more than just a solid bottom thrashing? Well, you'll just have to read the story and find out. Meanwhile you can read a brief excerpt from the tale on my website.

The Spank! authors are in the middle of a blog tour, by the way. The participants and the dates are listed below. Drop by their blogs and find out more about their favorite flavors of corporal carnality.

9/1 D. L. King

9/2 Cervo (Logical Lust)

9/3 Sommer Marsden

9/4 Anna Black

9/5 Jean Roberta

9/6 Tara S. Nichols

9/7 Maggie Morton (Logical Lust)

9/8 Kathleen Bradean

9/9 Lee Ash (Logical Lust)

9/10 Lisabet Sarai

9/11 Evan Mora (Logical Lust)

9/12 Allison Wonderland

9/13 Sean Meriwether (Logical Lust)

9/14 Roxy Katt

9/15 Donna George Storey

9/16 Beth Wylde

9/17 Sacchi Green (Logical Lust)

9/18 A.D.R. Forte

9/19 J. Z. Sharpe Logical Lust

9/20 Jessica Lennox

9/21 Cassandra Park

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Lessons from Lore

By Jade Archer (Guest Blogger)

Hi, Everyone! It’s wonderful to be here and heartfelt thanks to Lisabet Sarai for giving me this opportunity to share a little of my experience as I take my first, stumbling steps into the wonderful, yet slightly overwhelming world of writing for publication. It’s truly amazing to be able to share my thoughts with you all. Why amazing? Well, because at the beginning of the year I was a mother of five, working part-time, with a passion for reading and an intermittent craving to write down the stories that clamored about in my head. Now, nine months later (and isn’t that just poetic!) my first book, `What To Do With Lore’, is being released through Total-E-Bound, and I have another four more titles coming out between now and December 6th.

It’s been an incredible journey and there are so many people to thank. So I thought I might get right to it, while at the same time sharing a little insight into what, at least for me, was an unknown world pre-contract.

I could ramble on and on with tales of my own personal journey into publishing. It’s a very fresh and exciting period in my life and I’ve learnt so much. But that’s likely to get boring pretty quick, so here are the highlights and the most important things I have learnt so far.

Lesson One: If you want to write professionally you have to treat your writing as a profession. I will never be able to thank enough the friend I met online that forced me to write each day so that I had something to exchange with her in our informal critiquing sessions. This was THE turning point in my writing. The light-bulb moment when I realized that if I wanted to write professionally I had to invest time into my writing every day. Essentially, it meant giving up some of my reading time and saying no to a few things I would normally have taken on. Without that friend encouraging and supporting me, I would never have completed my first manuscript. I would have just played and potted for the rest of my days, which would have been fine, because from here on out the lessons came thick and fast.

Lesson Two: Once the process of actually writing the story I wanted to tell was complete, I had to get up the courage to actually send it away. Again, my friend helped with this immensely. But who to send it to? Where to physically send it? And what exactly are submission guidelines? Fortunately, years of being an avid reader in my chosen genre stood me in good stead to make a short list of publishers based on who I liked as a reader in terms of quality finished product and submission guidelines where easily found on the publisher’s website. So I sent a partial manuscript away, accompanied by a neat little cover email, synopsis and a whole truck load of hope pinned to it. Fortunately, my friend was also there to help pick up the pieces when that first submission failed. And so begins…

Lesson Three: Rejection is a…well I’m sure you can fill in the blank, but persistence is the key. The first rejection letter I ever got was like a knife to the heart. I’d worked so hard on my manuscript. It was my baby. I loved my characters. Again, thank heavens for my critiquing friend that supported me when I just wanted to throw in the towel. But in the end, despite all her support, I had to do the next bit on my own. I had to keep writing. And being brave enough to send in two more manuscripts to two separate publishers…well it probably wasn’t brave, but it was hard and I wasn’t anywhere near as hopeful. My writing definitely faltered. Then I got my first nibble.

Lesson Four: This is the hardest of the lessons I learned to write about, but here goes. Sometimes, even when you are nearly at the point of getting a contract, when you can smell the sweet scent of success, things can happen that make publishing with that particular publisher not possible. Don’t be a prima donna about it, but don’t compromise yourself just to see your work in print. It REALLY isn’t worth it. And at the end of the day, the only person who is truly going to look after your interests and the integrity of your story is you. Be careful, read contracts and ask yourself if requested revisions are the right thing for you and YOUR story. Not all resubmissions are going to take and not every publishing house is going to be right for your work.

Lesson Five: After two failed attempts, I’m embarrassed to say I thought it was over. I know there are some very successful writers that suffered years of knock backs before they got their big break. I wasn’t likely to be one of them. I just didn’t want to get another knock back. Then I got a second nibble, technically a rejection but with an offer to resubmit and with very specific revisions outlined. I worked hard, completed the changes in a timely fashion, sent the revised manuscript back and, I’m ashamed to say, stopped writing. It was in the hands of the gods, I told myself. What would be would be.

And apparently I was meant to be published, because manuscript three was accepted with Total-E-Bound and on Monday was available for download. I’d done it. `What To Do With Lore’ was being published! Streamers and party balloons. Yay! You did it…what do you mean I’m only about half way there? But I wrote a book. It’s being published. I have an editor who says she loves me, even though my punctuation and grammar are appalling. Promotion…what promotion? …blogging?! …author’s email addresses!…websites!!…(*gasp*) social networking!!!!

Apparently, writing a book is just the tip of the iceberg. Some suggest the percentages are about 60/40. I’ve never been game enough to ask which one is the writing and which is the getting yourself out there component. I fear I’m still finding my feet on both counts. What saved me in the end? Well that would be the next lesson.

Lesson Six: Someone said to me recently that they had never met a more caring, supportive group than romance writers and readers. And I’d have to agree. Since joining their ranks I have met so many wonderful men and women, all of whom have not only welcomed me warmly and sincerely, but who have actively supported and encouraged me, helping me as I fumbled along.

It all started with my editor, a wonderful, brave (no really, my punctuation was that bad) woman who began by sending me some resources to tackle my manuscript issues, then pointed me in the direction of a number of fabulous blogs, suggesting that I read and learn. Best. Advice. Ever. So many wonderful, experienced authors blog about what makes and breaks, what works and what doesn’t, what you can and what you can’t expect.

I read and I talked to people via email and in chat rooms. I learnt about blogging and yahoo groups and how to build a website. I asked for opinions and got some wonderful, astute advice to tweak my promotional ideas. My website was born and revised until it is now something I’m proud of and serves well as a showcase for my work. Please visit when you have the time:

It was then time to tackle social networking. It’s not much use having a book published if no one knows it’s available. I met people willing to have me post as a guest like the wonderful Lisabet Sarai and I then tried out various groups and forums.

Somewhere along the line, I managed to read another wonderful piece of advice. Reader follow the faithful. And I have found it to be very true. I have devoted myself to just one or two forums, rather than spread myself out thinly over many. One group in particularly I’d like to mention is the M/M Romance Group on Goodreads. They have become my rock, my friends and have offered so much support I can’t even begin to thank them enough. Friends I met on Goodreads have agreed to host competitions to win free copies of my books. Others have offered podcast time and peer reviews. The group let me start my own little corner for promotions, which is a lovely way to share.

If you’re ever in the mood to stop by, I’m often there now. A Goodreads profile is necessary and our fabulous Moderator Lori has to check your age before accepting you into the group, but once you’re in it’s a truly amazing place. Here’s a link if you want to stop by:

Anyway, around this time, first edits came back for `What To Do With Lore’. And strangely enough, I’ve found I loved the editing process. Edit one and edit two went smoothly, mainly because of my wonderful editor using an equal amount of carrot with her stick to whip my writing into shape. Then it was off to the proofreader, who helped me to add the final few tweaks that were needed before it was sent on for artwork and then…publication!

Are my books going to change the world? Probably not. Am I proud of them? Damn straight I am. These books represent a lifelong dream that I never thought would come to fruition. But more than that, publishing these books, and hopefully more in the future, has opened my life to some wonderful, talented, astounding generous people who have made every lesson a joy to learn.

And so Jade Archer was born in 2010, after a prolonged pregnancy and labour of over 34 years! I’ve decided she’s about 24, enjoys long walks in the country because she doesn’t have five kids and a husband to care for, eats as much chocolate as she wants because she never has to worry about putting on weight (must be all those long walks!) and can often be found planning her next whirlwind world tour or endlessly typing away (without any interruptions) on another hot and steamy erotic romance. It might be space pirates; it might be shifters or a lonely vampire with a hunger for the girl next door, one thing’s for sure, she loves variety and can’t wait to meet the next characters destined to fall in love.